


The Photobooth

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bridezilla Lance Hunter, Conversations, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Friendship/Love, Humor, Inspired by Photography, Karaoke, Kissing, Male-Female Friendship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Supportive Relationships, Teasing, moping, photobooth, skoulsonfest2k16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skoulsonfest2k16 - DAY 1 · 18 January - Off-duty</p><p>Inspired by an image I saw of a photobooth couple.  There is a piece of fan art to accompany it at http://lastcenturykindagirl.tumblr.com/post/137530764324/skoulsonfest-2016-day-1-18-january-off-duty</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Photobooth

It’s a party.

To be specific, it’s Bobbi and Hunter re-engagement party, as they’re jokingly calling it, and the whole team is celebrating the event.

Renting out the night at a local tavern and singing karaoke.  The karaoke at Hunter’s request, of course.

In fact, she’s watching him serenading Bobbi now with “When A Man Loves A Woman” and it’s kind of cute.

The sort of thing that doesn’t really happen to her, of course, she thinks as she sets down her beer bottle.

She managed to drag herself here and put on a friendly face, though.  She even wore this nice black sweater, she muses, looking down at her sleeve for moment.

Pretty much her entire closet is black; there’s a reason for that.

It goes with everything.  Like being busy training new recruits or fighting Inhumans working for HYDRA. Being single.

She sighs and leans back in her chair when Mack comes and sits down next to her, arriving fashionably late with a beer in hand.

“Hey, Tremors.  How are you doing?”

She knows what this is.  Mack is checking up on her.  About the Lincoln thing.

“Great,” she lies, raises her beer at him.

He knocks his bottle against hers and looks over at Hunter, and sighs himself.

“Here comes the sequel.”

“Don’t be so cynical,” Daisy retorts.  “Maybe things will work out this time?”

Mack rolls his eyes towards her slowly, and takes a long sip off his beer.

“What?” she shrugs.  “It’s not like we can expect everyone that works for SHIELD to die lonely and miserable.”

That gets a chuckle out of him.

“Speak for yourself. And you’re too young to talk like that,” he tells her, clapping his hand on her leg.

“I don’t feel too young to talk like that,” she answers.

“Why don’t you go sing something?” he says encouragingly.  “A good one for a breakup, like-“

“Don’t,” she says, cutting in before he can finish.

“You and Coulson can do a duet,” he says, nodding over to the man sitting at a table off to the side, neat glass of scotch all to himself. "'Tracks of My Tears' has always been my go to.

She tilts her head at Mack and gives him a dirty look.  "You've spent too much time with Hunter," she says as he starts to motion Coulson over like he needs something.

Coulson points a finger at himself.

“Mack,” she whispers through her teeth. “He’s not going to think it’s funny.”

“What is it?” Coulson asks, looking between her and Mack as they both say nothing before he sits down.

“I was just trying to get Daisy here to go up and sing something.”

“Why?” he says, looking at Mack with a puzzled expression and then at Daisy.

“Thank you,” she says with an approving nod, taking another drink of her beer.

“Guess you two don’t need me,” Mack says, putting his hands on the table and standing. “I’m going to go find someone who can have some fun.”

She huffs as he walks off towards Joey drinking his beer.

“I’m fun,” she calls after him, then looks over at Coulson.

“Uh huh,” he agrees, taking a drink of his scotch.  "Don't mind him. He's just recruiting for karaoke."

She looks around the room as the wheels start to turn.  This is going to be fun.  It’s going to be a fun night.

“C’mon,” she says, standing, waving her fingers at Coulson. “I need a partner in crime.”

“For what?” he asks, but he’s already pushing his chair up, getting out of his seat.

“The photobooth,” she says, jerking her head towards the back corner of the bar.

The one Hunter rented, along with the bar, and demanded everyone queue up for so they could have fond memories.

“You’ve never done this?” she asks, pulling him by the elbow to tug him after her.

“Of course I have,” he tells her, following along reluctantly.

They stop in front of it and look at the table of props and see a few scatterings of pictures left on the table.

“Boring. Boring. _Super_ boring,” she says, picking them up one by one.

“That’s because everyone’s still sober,” Coulson informs her.

“We’ll see,” she says, pulling back the curtain and then waiting, holding it back until he comes in to sit down next to her.

“Only so many silly faces a person can make,” he starts in as he sits in the narrow space.

“Then we’ll do something really unexpected.  Like kiss.  Can you imagine their faces?” she says gleefully.

“I’m not doing that,” Coulson replies immediately, acting like he’s going to get up.

“Why?” she asks, putting her hand on his arm. He sits back down.

“I’m not going to look like _that guy_.”

“Which one?”

“The one who waits until everyone gets drunk at a company party to try and make out with his co-worker.  Much younger co-worker.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You’re not _that guy_ and I’m not _that young_.”

“You’re twenty-seven.”

“I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months, and I’m _definitely_ old enough to make out with who I want to. Anyway, Bobbi and Hunter are getting married and they’re both SHIELD.”

“I know,” he says, settling next to her, as she leans forward to push the button that will start the camera. “It’s a bad idea.”

They give huge, fake smiles together as the camera flashes.

“Besides,” she picks up the conversation, “We're not ones to talk. We both tried dating people that weren’t SHIELD.”

After a glance at each other, she sticks her tongue out as he recoils.

“And look how that turned out?” she finishes. “Don’t be so awkward.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, rolling his eyes as the flash goes off again.

She gives him bunny ears and makes a completely somber face as the photos finish.

They sit in silence for a moment as the machine processes the photos, then she reaches across him as he tries to lean out of the way to save his scotch, and she grabs the developed pictures, bringing them back inside.

“Look at this,” she says, scratching at her nose, staring down at them. “We can do better than that. You’re such a sad bunny.”

“We do look pretty pathetic,” he agrees, leaning forward to look.

 “I never said I was going to make out with you, by the way.  It was just going to be a friendly kiss,” she says turning to him, giving him a tight smile.

“Okay,” he says defensively.  “We could use props?”

“Those are for the weak-minded, when you run out of ideas,” she tells him. “Do you know any good jokes?”

“None are coming to mind,” he says, taking another drink.

“How old are you again?” she asks, pushing on the button, as he raises his eyebrows. “I can’t believe, in all your years, you don’t know any good-“

The flash goes off just when he kisses her.

“Ha. Ha,” he says, cocky, when she’s quiet for a moment.

“That’s just rude,” she says, as he starts to laugh.

“Why, it was going to be funnier when you did it to me?” he taunts.

She shoves at his shoulder when he starts laughing again.

Getting up on her knees in the booth, she pulls her sweater over her head as the flash goes off.

“Whoa,” he warns, when he sees a flash of skin. “That’s going to look great.”

Her arms get free and she pulls the bottom of her tank down, then leans across him quickly to put the sweater outside on the table.

“Don’t panic, Phil,” she tells him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “All in good fun.”

Switching his drink to the prosthetic, he leans out of the booth and snakes the pictures out of the tray when they’re ready.

“Huh,” he says, as she takes his drink from him and sips on it.  “Much better.”

"See?  We're just warming up," she tells him.

 

 

“Hey, there’s Coulson,” Joey says to Mack, looking over the bigger man’s shoulder.

He watches Coulson make his way to the bar, looking around the room for a moment.

“Wonder where Daisy went?” Mack adds, glancing about for any sign of her.

He hones in on Coulson and sees him make a face at Hunter pulling Fitz up to the stage to do karaoke together.

“I need to drink more if this is a requirement,” Joey says, watching the same.

“Just think of it as a very inexpensive wedding present,” Mack says.

Coulson quickly ducks away out of view towards the back of the bar.

With two glasses in his hands.

“We should go check out the photobooth later,” Mack tells him as he turns back around when Fitz starts in on "Ooh Baby I Love Your Way."

"Did Hunter pick this song?" Joey says, sinking back in his chair a bit.

"He likes Jimmy Buffett, too.  How do you feel about singing 'Margaritaville?'"

"You're kidding, right?"

 

 

“Here you are,” he says, handing her the whiskey on the rocks.

“Thanks,” she answers, making room for him inside the booth.  “You’re such a gentleman.”

“I think it was my only option or you were going to keep drinking mine.”

“Mmm,” she nods, sipping. “Whiskey!  Hey, thoughtful, too.”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a small smile.

“Cheers,” she interrupts, clinking her glass against his. “To being stuck in the photobooth.”

“I’m here voluntarily,” he adds. “Hunter has taken over the karaoke recruiting duties.  He's kind of a Bridezilla.”

“Luckily the Koenigs are here,” she mentions. “That should keep him entertained for awhile?”

“No photobooth takers, yet,” he adds, settling in with a happy sigh, sipping on his scotch.

“Rapid fire rounds,” she announces. “We take turns.  We each list off expressions and at the end we compare and whoever has the best one wins.”

“The best suggestions, or, the best actual expressions?” he says, wanting clarity.

“I don’t know, both?” she shrugs.

“What do we win?”

“I don’t know?”

“I just don’t want you sabotaging my suggestions,” he warns her, then quickly presses the button. “Go!”

 

 

“Someone’s been rather busy,” Simmons murmurs, lifting up the jacket and sweater off the little table and setting them aside on a nearby chair.

She can hear the low talking in the photobooth, but is too intrigued by the pictures spread out on the table to bother.

“Oh goodness,” she says, picking one up.  “This looks rather more fun than karaoke.”  And groans when she hears "If You Leave Me Now" being sung in low, dulcet tones.

She’s startled when Daisy pops her head out of the curtains of the booth, looking like she’s either been laughing really hard, or-

She’s been laughing really hard, _of course_.

“Those are pretty funny, huh?” she says.

“Yes,” Simmons answers. “Best fun I’ve had all night.”

“It’s just, we’ve run out of alcohol,” she says, starting to laugh.

Simmons is pretty sure she hears Coulson laughing, too, inside the booth.

“Just a moment,” Daisy says, then ducks inside the booth again, and comes out with two empty glasses.

“Coulson says that we’ll negotiate. Poses for booze,” she says, holding out the glasses to her, biting her lower lip.

“Is he drunk?” Simmons asks politely, leaning forward.

“Maybe a little,” she nods, whispering. “It’s kind of great. I’m Inhuman, of course.”

“Of course,” Simmons says, mimicking her nod.  “And anything I request?”

“Within reason!” she hears yelled at her from inside the booth.

“Oh, very well,” she says, taking the glasses.

 

 

“Did you and Lincoln…was it…amicable?”

He asks just as someone singing, "I Can't Make You Love Me" drifts their way.

"Is that Mack?" she says, narrowing her eyes for a moment, then tries to tune out the sad lyrics.

She’s taken her boots off now and has her knees drawn up against her, her bare feet propped inside the wall of the booth.

“I mean, as amicable as it gets when you won’t leave SHIELD, I suppose," she continues. "From now on, I’m only dating people who are on the same page with me.”

“You’re really limiting your options,” he tells her, rattling around the ice in his glass before taking a drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she says, frowning at him.

“There aren’t many people like you,” he shrugs.  “Sorry to burst your bubble.”

She watches him toss back the drink and feels sad at the idea he might actually believe that.

“You are, Phil,” she says, tugging at his arm.  “You’re like me,” she leans her head on his shoulder.

“I wish I was more like you, Daisy Johnson,” he mutters against her hair, then rests his cheek there.

Her fingers slide over his prosthetic hand, and she leaves them lying atop his.

“I have to pee,” she says a few moments later.

He takes her glass from her, then scoots back to help her up out of the photobooth.

 

 

“Where are you two headed?” Mack asks, as he and Joey arrived at the photobooth.

Daisy seems smaller, standing there with Coulson’s jacket over her shoulders.

Then he realizes she’s holding her boots.

Coulson has her sweater balled up in his hand, and tells them, “We’ve done enough damage. You two have at it.”

“You guys need a ride?” Mack asks, giving them a very responsible once-over.  “We were thinking about heading back anyway.”

“You mean running away from your karaoke obligations?” May says, walking up to them.

“Yes,” Joey says bluntly.  “Where have you been this whole time?”

“Singing, of course,” she says, like she’s daring someone to suggest otherwise.

“I’m in,” Daisy says, looking up at Coulson.

“If I stay any longer, I’m going to finish off the whiskey,” he confesses.

“Sounds embarrassing.  I’ll drive,” May says, heading for the door.

 

 

“We drank too much,” she sighs, when they’re back at the base and everyone has gone their separate ways.

“Yes. Not too much laughter,” he says, smiling and handing her sweater to her.

They walk until they’re stopped in front of door to her quarters.

“That was my favorite part.  Thanks, partner,” she tells him, pats the front of his shirt.

“Goodnight,” he answers, then leans forward and hugs her carefully.

She holds on for a little longer than necessary and hands back the sweater to him and starts to slide his jacket off her arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her, putting his hand on her wrist. “You can give it back tomorrow.”

“Okay. Phil,” she answers, when he turns to leave. “We never agreed about what I won back there.”

“What did you win, Daisy?” he asks her, turning back, playing along.

“A real kiss. A goodnight kiss?”

“A real drunken goodnight kiss?” he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

She closes her eyes. “If it’s real, I’ll take it.”

“You’re sure?” he asks her, his hand is warm on her chin as he tips her face up towards him, and then she feels his lips hover near hers, like he’s hesitating, breath warm and still smelling like scotch.

It spreads over her lips and down to her toes when he kisses her. Warmth she hadn't expected. Soft, but intentional.  He angles himself when they stumble up against her door as she pulls him more tightly against her by his shirt.

She finally lets him go to the sound of their mouths parting, and looks up at his bright eyes.  Curiosity and desire, mixed with something else she's seen there before.

“Alright, Phil Coulson,” she says. “That was real.  Good job.”

“Goodnight?” he asks, a little sad, a little amused, when she cracks the door open.

“For now.”

 

 

“Bobs, did you see these?”  Hunter says, sifting through the box to cure his hangover.

Or so he thought.

“No,” she says, brushing her hair, she stops for a moment and comes over to sit on the bed next to him.

“They’re all of Daisy and Coulson,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“Anything good?” she asks, picking up one to see them both making a series of duck lip pouts. “They look like they had fun.”

“They hogged the bloody photobooth is what they did,” he says, sorting through the photo strips some more.

“Look at this.” She plucks one out from the box, gives it a good once-over. “He’s kissing her.”

“Yeah, and she’s recoiling, as one would.”

“She’s just surprised,” Bobbi answers with a huff. “I bet there’s more of them kissing in here."

“I hate to ask,” he tells her, lifting one out and turning it at her. “But are these their arses?”

She squints. “I don’t think so.  This is Phil Coulson you’re talking about.  Although,” she turns it to get a different angle and tilts her head. “How much did they drink last night?”

“Hell if I know,” he said. “Haven’t sorted out the tab yet.  Or my headache.”

Bobbi gets off the bed and goes back to getting ready.

“Love!  They have their fingers in each other’s noses in this one,” she hears him call out to her, laughs to himself.

“How’d this one of Fitz get in here? Boring.”

“Blue Steel.  Classic. All Daisy, of course.”

“Bobs, come see this one! No. Wait. Don’t.”


End file.
